Jim Moriarty, Consulting Detective
by An Author's Pen
Summary: "I'm going to become the world's second ever consulting detective!" Jim exclaimed, and Sebastian tried not to sigh. Of course, it all goes downhill from there.
1. Part 1

Part 1: In which Moriarty reveals his evil plan and Sebastian tries to look duly impressed.

* * *

"Murder the sun, won't you Seb," Jim commanded lazily.

"Too far away, boss," the ace marksman replied, at length.

"Don't be a bore."

Sebastian paused in the middle of cleaning his equipment and asked, "Boss, _why_ do you want me to shoot the sun?"

"Because it's ruining my plan."

"Which one?"

"The one I thought of just now, of course. And it's a perfect plan, so it has to be nice and stormy for me to explain it properly because it's just _that wicked_." Jim waited expectantly.

"So, what's the plan?"

"I_ could_ just tell it to you now." Jim considered. "Are you listening?"

"I can barely contain myself, Jim," Sebastian replied dryly.

"Ha. Ha. Okay. Here goes. I'm going to become the world's second consulting detective!"

"..."

"Oh, and kill those chirpy birds too."


	2. Part 2

Part 2: In which Moriarty makes a new website and serious damage is done to the wall of 221b.

* * *

John Watson awoke to the discordant sound of a laptop crashing to the floor. He mentally counted to sixty-one, realizing it was going to be one of _those_ days. John didn't like to dwell too long on the fact he recognized the sound a computer made when it hit the floor. Nor was he looking forward to confronting his flat mate about whatever had roused his ire.

When John finally ambled downstairs, awkwardly buttoning his shirt in case Sherlock decided they had to zoom over to some crime scene, he found the detective pouting on the couch.

"John," the man said instantly. "He can't do this."

"What is it now, Sherlock?"

"This!"

With an intense look, Sherlock picked up the laptop and shoved it in John's face.

John stared at the caption: Jim Smith, consulting detective will be happy to assist when the police are too busy or London's pet detective is too out of it to do more then snore! Low rates, high guarantee!

Below the words, Moriarty smiled smugly up at him.

A loud boom awoke the rest of the neighborhood as Sherlock emptied the contents of John's gun into the wall.


	3. Part 3

Part three: In which Mycroft gets apprised of current events and remains completely neutral.

* * *

She snickered.

When Mycroft glanced up, though, his assistant's face was blank. "I think you had better take a look at this, sir," she said.

She carefully relinquished her phone into his grasp and he stared at the screen for some moments, quietly.

He snickered.

When she looked up, though, his face was blank, portraying nothing but a slight wrinkled brow. "I suppose," said Mycroft, "that we should congratulate Mr. Moriarty on abandoning a life of crime and becoming a respectable citizen. A fruit basket, I think, is in order. Have one delivered to Mr. Moriarty's flat."

"Of course, sir."

Mycroft took up his newspaper and began to peruse it once more. Hidden behind the paper, his mouth began to twitch.


	4. Part 4

Part four: In which Donovan and Moriarty get on fabulously.

* * *

"So. You're the newest consulting detective?" Donvan asked, giving the man before her a long stare.

"It's all the rage now," said the man, shrugging. "Besides, why let Sherlock have a monopoly? Those are illegal, you know."

"You know him then," Donovan said flatly.

"Oh, yes."

"And are you going to start giggling over dead children?" she demanded icily.

"No, I take murder very seriously," the man replied. "Right Seb?" He turned to the more athletic man besides him, who nodded.

"And you aren't going to comment on the state of my knees, or speculate on any affair I might or might not be having with Anderson?"

"N-o," the man replied. His eyes followed Anderson speculatively, with a nod of appreciation, and his companion's hand twitched.

Donovan tapped her boot against the pavement, and then held out her hand. "I'm Sally Donovan, then, and you had better follow me."


	5. Part 5

Part 5: In which John and Sebastian discover their mutual army backgrounds

* * *

As their charges glared, the two sidekicks caught each others eye and approached.

"Vet?" asked Moriarty's henchman. "Afghanistan?"

"Yes. You?"

"Same. Sniper, though."

"Doctor."

They paused in reminiscent silence. Then John twitched and exclaimed "What the hell is going on? Moriarty's a consulting criminal, everyone knows that."

"Just you two, really," Sebastian said. "Generally he keeps his identity a secret." The man's tone contained heavy disapproval.

They watched as Sherlock shoved Moriarty up against a wall and began to berate him.

"So," began Sebastian, "are you guys secretly gay lovers?"

John blinked, and exploded. "No! No we're _not_! I'm absolutely one hundred percent straight and Sherlock is, well, whatever Sherlock is. Nothing is going on between us! He didn't kiss me last Monday!"

"Sure," said Sebastian, nodding. "I just wanted to check."

John hesitated and then ventured, "What about you-"

"Definitely."

"Ah."

A companionable silence settled between them.

Then John said, "Pub?"

"Thought you'd never ask."


	6. Part 6

Part 6: In which Moriarty solves a crime and does not cheat at all, nope!

* * *

Moriarty looked on his audience with delight. "The first witness," he continued, "swore him to be a blond man who was missing a leg. The second witness was just as adamant that he was dark haired and wearing simple black. But here is the corner piece of the puzzle: there were not two men. It was only one man, who worked his day job as a hypnotist!"

Moriarty paused dramatically, then went forward in his recital. "It was child's play for a hypnotist as skilled as Timothy Ritter to manipulate the the postman's identification. . ."

. . .

Moriarty escaped his grateful clients and came over to Sebastian. "Seb," he whispered, "break Tim out by next week, okay, he's one of my best assassins."

"Yes, boss."

"And don't forget to pay him."

"Of course."


	7. Part 7

Part 7: In which Sherlock takes drastic measures.

* * *

"He knew where to look! He knew!"

Sherlock paced around 221b. He swiveled to look at John, who was reading. "I should go back to talking to my skull for all the help you are," the detective murmured sulkily.

John laid the book down. "So he solved the case before you did, Sherlock. It was only once, it won't happen again."

"No one working with the facts I had could have worked it out more quickly than me. Therefore, Moriarty had more information. In fact, I hypothesize he planned the whole thing beforehand!"

John frowned. "I suppose he'd be good at the planning thing, being a consulting criminal and all that."

Sherlock went on, caught up in his train of thought. "Mere intellect will not enable me to triumph if he already knows the answer. If I want to win, I'll have to set up a crime of my own . . ."

"Sherlock! You can't - that's wrong, now, just wait a second! Hey! No, don't leave, - wait, wait, I'm getting my coat!"


	8. Part 8

Part 8: In which Lestrade is dreadfully sorry.

* * *

When John arrived at 221b, fresh from a brisk walk around the city, he noticed three things: first, the departing police cars; second, the absence of Sherlock; and third, the presence of Lestrade, who was grimacing apologetically at him.

John slowly put the facts together and came to an inescapable conclusion. "Did you just _arrest_ Sherlock?" he asked, dumbfounded.

Lestrade cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry John. Evidence was anonymously presented to the yard that Sherlock, instead of simply recovering the stolen gem, stole it in the first place. And this might not be the first time he's done it."

"Look Greg," John tried to reason, "You know what he's capable of, he's a genius, he-"

"The evidence was extremely conclusive," Lestrade interjected, not looking at John. "I'll email you the date of the trial."

"But-"

"I have to be going."


	9. Part 9

Part 9: In which homeless people save the day and John really isn't gay.

* * *

"John!"

"Sherlock! Is that you? How are you calling me? If you broke out of jail-"

"Don't be ridiculous, John. I simply told my warders I needed to speak with my partner."

"Partner! You said we were, were-"

"Gay, yes John. Now shut up and listen very carefully. Log on to my laptop. You know the password, I believe, and look under the files labeled Moriarty. Now-"

"Why do you have so many pictures of him?"

"It's called evidence, John. Now, go under Crimes and find the most recent file. Copy it onto a memory stick."

"Okay. Then do I take them in and show Lestrade?"

"Of course not. No one would believe it from you."

"Why not?"

"Testimonies from spouses generally hold little weight in court."

"_Sherlock_!" John gritted his teeth. "Will you please not tell the whole world I'm gay! No, that sounds wrong. I mean, I'm not gay. Stop saying I am."

"Save your sexual crisis for later, John. Go to the intersection of Gloucestor and George street. Give the memory stick to the homeless woman with the bandana."

"Fine."

"Good. That's all."

John laid his phone down and sighed.


End file.
